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Monday, June 30, 2014

Wash Line Monday!

Our Monday meme shines a light on apparel. From Regency to Steampunk, and everything in between, we dress our characters to reflect the story we want to tell.

In comments, and in 300 words or less, give us a snippet from your novel that describes what your heroes, heroines, or bit players are wearing. Don't forget your buy link and website/blog link. Have fun!

16 comments:

The Witchy Wolf & the Wendigo (book2) by Rose Andersonhttp://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004XDGWL6...........................................Olivia had never seen such regally dressed men. Especially stunning was Eric Hole-In-The-Day, who wore black and white. Long fringe, ribbons, and black-and-white beaded panels covered him from head to toe, along with feathers that could only come from eagle and vulture. As a veterinarian, she knew only permit-carrying Native Americans were allowed feathers from raptors. The birds were protected by law and anyone possessing any part of the bird was slapped with hefty fines or jailed. As eagles were held sacred by the indigenous peoples, the strictly-enforced regulations had exceptions. In her area, eagles were occasionally electrocuted on power lines. Because he possessed a permit, John had an arrangement with the utility company. Any eagle carcass they came across was brought to the animal hospital to be skinned. The skin, with feathers intact, was then shipped north to the reservation.The older men wore traditional post-settlement costumes of ribbon shirts and turkey tail bustles and some wore ankle rattles made of deer toes. Each man carried a wing fan or two, or a rattle and a fan. All wore head pieces of fur and feathers in several styles. Old Edgar wore an otter skin hat, the tail of the otter heavily beaded and running down his back. In contrast, several of the younger men, Jo included, wore fancy costumes consisting of wide shoulder pieces and bustles adorned with bells, colorful ribbons, and goose feathers dyed orange, yellow, red, and blue. The women came out next, dressed in beautiful fringed shawls, the jingles on their dresses adding another layer to the rhythm of the drum. Wearing Fay’s regalia, both Cora and Olivia hung back to watch rather than dance. They’d enter the circle eventually. This would go long into the night. ..........................................Sample the first chaptershttps://www.smashwords.com/books/view/333971

These are two tiny snippets from my upcoming River City novel, Campaign. It should be available by the end of this week. I'd do anything for her wardrobe! You don't want to know what I would do for the fish bracelet.

**Just what I need, all of River City thinking I’m some super-wealthy spoiled chick.** She picked out a sundress she had bought from her favorite designer in Madrid and coupled it with a pair of sandals she’d picked up in Naples. With care, she applied her eyeliner and mascara, then stood far enough back to see herself in the mirror.She knew Brad had fallen in love with her, the person she was on the inside, not her looks or money. But she loved looking good for him. Satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed the matching short-sleeved bolero jacket and she joined him in the living room.

“I said casual. You look stunning.”

She shook her head and found his laptop. “It’s just a sundress.” She loved the look on his face which was somewhere between awestruck and wanting to jump her. “You’d better get dressed if we’re supposed to meet your parents.”

#############

The brown dress her mom had shipped was perfect. The halter neckline had been designed just for her, and the hemline fell to slightly above her knees. Quickly she dressed and went to Brad’s little kitchen to make coffee. She was waiting for it to finish brewing when Brad appeared.

“I thought I smelled coffee.” He leaned over and kissed her neck.

“You look stunning.”

“Shower,” she signed, then shooed him in that direction.

She fixed his coffee and took it into the bathroom while she finished putting on her makeup. She opened her little case that contained her jewelry and choose an unusual fish bracelet she had found in Buenos Aires a few years ago. She pushed it over her hand and up her arm. The eighteen-carat gold fish wrapped her upper arm perfectly. She paired it with small gold disk earrings and then stood back to check her image in the mirror.

It’s nine o’clock, and everyone’s waiting downstairs for Bethand me. She looks great, which is no surprise. She generally does.What is a little surprising, at least to me, is just how good I look. Thatsounds immodest, but what the heck. I’m allowed to be immodestonce in a while, right?

Beth spent the last two hours helping me do my hair andmakeup, and she absolutely demanded that I wear the dress I boughtwith my birthday money. It doesn’t quite say “do me”–nothing I ownsays that–but it might say “buy me some drinks and dance with me and I’ll think about it” if I wear it with the proper attitude. It’s black andstrapless and–for me, at least–very short. It’s such a change from myusual wardrobe that I barely recognize myself in the mirror.Especially with my hair up and the way-more-than-usual makeup job.

She gives me a final once over, and claps her hands. She’sthrilled. “There may be hope for you yet!” She doesn’t need me tocheck her over, she knows without even looking in the mirror thateverything’s right, not a hair or anything else out of place.

I have to take one last good long look at myself, though. Thewoman staring back at me has my eyes, but the rest of her…

Dressed in my cream tunic and russet trousers, I trembled to touch her. Even though her frame was far too thin, her hips curved underneath the fabric. Her brown robe tossed over a low limb to dry. Struggled in my mind over her. Bring her with me or leave her behind or take her with me.

From my upcoming book, Tidal Falls, Turning this way and that, Sara tried to see her back in the floor length mirror attached to her bedroom door, entranced with the dress Grace had picked out for her. It was beautiful—if somewhat short on material. Backless and fashioned out of the softest oriental silk, it fell gently down her torso to end barely shy of indecent. The gorgeous mixture of turquoise greens and blues were breathtaking. Grace insisted it was perfect even though Sara wasn’t so sure it was appropriate for a first date.

"Ah, Alekzander, I see you've accepted my invitation." The fat ringed fingers rubbed tiny sands of incense into a brazier. They belonged to the man dressed in ridiculous sumptuous attire of a sultan even to the silk, multi-colored turban. "I'm here." Alekzander Brede answered with shrug. "Do you realize it's no longer the dark ages on this planet?" He walked along the long table spread before the man, inspecting the objects that lay upon it. "Why? Oh, because of my dress? I like it. Besides, it enhances the peoples' impression of me as overlord. Why shouldn't I wear it?" Brede said nothing merely picked up various objects on the table, turning them about and setting them back down with care. He shook his head slightly at the irreverent treatment of the precious historical objects, their worth incalculable—to humans at least. "You're no one to talk about fashion Brede. You look like a refugee of the last century with a bit of early millennium style thrown into the mix." "It's functional. I'm here so what do you want from me?"~~ The Brede Chronicles, Book One

This was a day most girls dreamed of.Norah Ballard gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Hair in place and makeup perfect: check. Strapless mermaid style, light taupe designer gown: check. Romantic halo of flowers circling her brow and a floor length veil: check. Calm stomach instead of the requisite bridal butterflies: check. She was more aloof from the buzz of activity around her than she probably should be. Shouldn't she be happily excited? Or terrified? Something other than indifferent? Something other than cold?

From The Real Deal, out soon from Ellora's Cavehttp://janeleopoldquinn.blogspot.com

**Scene: For the first time in twenty years, Jordan and Deke meet again.**

With a sparkle in his eye, he seemed to scrutinize her from head to toe. Embarrassed beneath his gaze, Jordan blushed. No longer was she the stick-thin; spunky, grad-student. Dressed in a colorful sleeveless top that accentuated the tone of her brown skin, she’d filled out in all the right places. Her tight jeans emphasized her mature, but curvy figure. Did this full-grown woman still mesmerize him?

This is from BENEATH MONTANA'S SKY, a sweet historical Western romance. The heroine, Pamela, is dressing for her wedding, helped by her best friend, Elizabeth.

Elizabeth came over early to help Pamela dress on her wedding day. After the maid, Jean, had styled Pamela’s hair, they’d dismissed her so they could spend these last minutes alone. Elizabeth helped Pamela into her underskirt and carefully lifted the dress over her head. “I’m glad we chose cream-colored silk,” Elizabeth said, working the row of tiny buttons up the back. “I think the color is more becoming on you than white.” She reached the final button at the top. “There.” She turned Pamela to face the oval mirror standing in the corner and fluffed out the skirt. Pamela looked at herself and caught her breath, amazed at the image she made. The dress of silk faille was worn over an A-line crinoline and a pleated and ruffled silk underskirt. A wide flounce of handmade Brussels lace edged the bodice, the ends of the three-quarter sleeves, and the bottom of the basque. The sweeping train, which Pamela had insisted the dressmaker make removable, was lined with heavy ecru satin. Silk roses clustered above the train gave the illusion of a bustle. Pearl drops hung from her earlobes, and her veil, draped back over her head for now, was anchored by a crown of faux pearls and crystals. “Oh, Beth. This gown is beautiful!”“You are beautiful, Pam. John’s eyes will light up when he sees you.”Pamela glanced at her friend, resplendent in blue-green silk, and shook her head. Beautiful Elizabeth cast her into the shade. But as she studied herself in the mirror, Pamela realized today she didn’t care. John has chosen me to be his wife! She, who’d been on her last hopes, was getting married to a man she adored.

Sylva stroked on the red lipstick carefully. The shade was deep scarlet and it looked like a swathe of gleaming velvet on her lips. "Who needs collagen injections?" she murmured, then surveyed her festively made-up face. Dusky twilight purple shadowed her eyes, highlighting the blue-green color. A shimmer of pale gold brought out her high cheekbones – a magical contrast to the glistening pink-gold powder covering her face, her neck, and artfully ending at her propped-up cleavage – displayed by a heart-shaped tight bodice of midnight satin. "Mirror, mirror, on my bathroom wall, who's the New Years Party fairest of them all?"

~~~

Zeke flashed a cocky half-grin at his appearance in the mirror his mother had given him decades ago. The white-gold scroll work framing the tall oval mirror contrasted sharply with his tan leather vest and matching pants – both designed for riding his horse into town, and as evening wear for the new year's celebration. His cream-colored silk shirt clung to the muscles of his chest, won by hard work on his family's ranch empire. And won by the fistfights he was famous for ending, but never beginning. Tonight, by long-standing tradition, he could claim any available woman as his bride.

~2~

Sylva flipped a smile at her reflection. Stepping back to see herself more fully, she thrust her hip, accentuating the sassiness of her short satin and tule-layered skirt. "Adorably sexy," she complimented herself. Okay, her thighs were full unlike the stick figure models that had successfully invaded the fashion world. Her calves were shapely, what used to be considered starlet-sexy ... especially since she wore spectacular, ankle-strap black heels, along with a pair of old-fashioned seamed hose. Tonight, she would strut her stuff with the best of them. Tomorrow, no more job. She was one more victim of the current economy.

Thoughts of those kisses teased her while she showered, towel-dried her hair, and put on makeup. Once those tasks were done, she donned a clean pair of jeans and a cotton shirt. She slipped her feet into strappy sandals. I'm not really chasing after the guy. She fastened one hoop earring, then the other. And I don't want a relationship with him. She frowned at her reflection and made a face. What do I want? She spritzed perfume on her neck. Dammit, it felt good to have a man admire her. Maybe Granny was right. A little flirting wouldn't hurt. Would it?

Excerpt from BLUEBONNETS FOR ELLYhttp://www.amazon.com/Bluebonnets-Elly-Sandra-Nachlinger-ebook/dp/B00I86E3F6/http://SandraNachlinger.blogspot.com

Eli’s happy voice causes me to turn around. He dances into the hallway, wearing tight black jeans and a white ruffled blouse.My mouth drops at the sight of him. “I know.” He snaps his fingers and spins around. “I do indeed look fine.” I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I can’t allow him to wear those clothes in public. “Eli, what’s up with that shirt? Don’t you have something else?”He looks me up and down. “I’m supposed to take fashion advice from you? I don’t think so.”He goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. When I arrive downstairs, Aunt Celeste is standing by the kitchen door, sipping a cup of coffee. “Please eat something, Anya. It’s almost time to go.”Micah sits at the island eating his eggs while I pick at the top of a blueberry muffin. “Wait until you see Eli,” I say. “He’s going to get beat up the minute he steps on school property.”Micah soaks up a runny egg yolk with a piece of toast. “Remember what I told you about respecting angels in positions above you. Even though you don’t respect me, you better not insult Eli.” “Wait until you see him.” Eli bops into the kitchen with his ruffled shirt flouncing. I look at Micah, hoping he’ll say something. He stuffs a forkful of eggs into his mouth.“You got anymore lasagna?” Eli says.Celeste shakes her head. “I’m sorry, it’s all gone. We have eggs and toast, or muffins.”I tug on Micah’s sleeve. “Tell him,” I whispered.“What do you want him to tell me?” Eli takes a bite of toast.Micah and Celeste lower their eyes. Eli sweeps the crumbs out of the ruffles.“I want him to tell you that that shirt makes you look like an old lady.”“Anya, that’s enough.” Celeste’s tone begs me to shut up.

On June 21st (National Aboriginal Day here in Canada), I released a lesbian anthology called "Don't You Savage Me" with all proceeds going to charities allied with Aboriginal women.

Here's a snippet from a cop-meets-girl-next-door story called "Cuff Divers":

Christina watched through the window as kids and adults in their Sunday best carried casseroles covered in tin foil up to the house.

“The Garners are having a pot luck," her mother said. "Their granddaughter received a medal today. There was a ceremony and everything. Oh, the Garners are so proud! You should hear the way they talk about her.”

Her mother’s voice faded into white noise as another car door opened.

Out stepped a woman, young—probably around Christina’s age—wearing a deep blue suit jacket with silver buttons. Her full police regalia was decorated in all the badges and emblems of the provincial force, plus a medal of valour on her lapel. She ran a hand through short raven hair before setting a hat on her head and closing the car door. Her features were diminutive, but her face was plump and her skin sun-drenched.

Christina’s stomach quaked at the sight of the woman’s pouting pink lips as she smiled and hugged various family members who’d come to congratulate her. In that pressed and perfect uniform, she looked official yet approachable.____

Tell all your friends to buy a copy of "Don't You Savage Me." Here's why: http://donutsdesires.blogspot.ca/2014/06/a-national-aboriginal-day-new-release.html

Later, a maid employed by the hotel came to her room to help her dress and do something with her hair. It was likely that Gabriel had ordered the service. She was grateful nonetheless. With the wonderful things Gabriel had had delivered to her, she wouldn’t have known how to make herself look presentable enough to suit them.In the mirror from the vanity, she got a good look at herself. The dress was stunning, made of silk in a dark bluish purple with a low neckline, accenting her medium-sized breasts. The gown was adorned with beads in purple and blue in various places. The bottom of the dress was decorated with scrolled embroidery, and the dress had come with matching gloves. She felt like a princess, especially with the dangling earrings at her ears and the pendant that dipped nearly to her bosom.About forty minutes later, after the maid had styled her hair into a bun with several tendrils draping down, she was on his arm as he guided her down a long staircase into a ballroom. It was so lovely she had to take a moment to absorb it all. The ballroom was rectangular with galleries surrounding it so that guests at the party could look down on the dancers. Buffet tables were laid out on the edges, as well as small round tables. The dance floor was polished to a fine sheen and people were already dancing to the waltzes the musicians played. Wallpaper adorned the walls in a rich burgundy damask pattern.Gabriel escorted Chloe to a table and returned with some punch in a crystal cup. Murmuring her thanks, she took it and sipped at it. “Hungry?” he asked.She nodded.